


Malaria (or why Alec is a pain in the arse when he's sick)

by Hino_Hatari



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Multi, sick!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hino_Hatari/pseuds/Hino_Hatari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec comes home with malaria and drives his lovers crazy. Q indulge him but Bond doesn't ... or does he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malaria (or why Alec is a pain in the arse when he's sick)

**Author's Note:**

> I had malaria a couple of years ago, and it's not as bad as people think it is but it's still very, very unpleasant. The depiction of the disease in this fanfic is based on my own experience, and I have little medical knowledge. I just know that I was treated entirely at home from beginning to end and that my mom and dad were very good with me and I was never that thankful for having parents.
> 
> Unfortunately, not all of us do.
> 
> P.S: this is my first work in years. Please forgive any mistake, and the narrative and just everything. Writing is not like riding a bike. It needs practice and persistence.

Q counted exactly fifty-two balls of wet tissues on the floor and seven on the bedside table. The windows were closed to keep the winter chill out, but the light of day still filtered through the thin curtains. He couldn’t help a wince as he looked at the general state of their bedroom and decided that he might as well pull out the bed from the couch in the living-room and sleep there for the night. He had tried to sterilize the room as much as he could but Alec had thrown sweaty teeshirts on the floor, and some pants as well.

Alec shouldn’t even be here but in Medical right now, as he had come back from a mission nine days ago with one fifth of his equipment, a few cuts on his body, but mostly, _malaria_.

Thankfully it was an uncomplicated case, a mild one.

That didn’t stop Alec from being a complete pain in the arse and a half.

”I’m cold!” Alec shouted with a hoarse voice and waved vaguely to have Q’s attention, and hopefully get even more coddled. He usually hated being sick, helpless and useless, but he had soon found out that Q and James were catering to his every need, and what kind of good lover would he be if he didn’t take advantage of the situation? Alec didn’t feel as bad as he pretended to be, but that was something only he knew, and it would be good if he kept it that way for a couple more days. Yes, he had malaria, but he was in the last stages of complete recovery, his body wasn’t shaking anymore, and he didn’t experience the frequent variation of temperature anymore, but he was good at faking both.

”You have two blankets covering you, Trevelyan.” Q pointed out and came further into the room to take a look at a tablet on the other bedside table that Alec hadn’t contaminated with his tissues yet. ”And it says here it’s twenty-two degrees in the room, which is warm enough.”

”You’re not the one who has malaria here, Q.” Alec reached out a hand, purposefully shaking it a bit to make his point. ”Come.” His voice, however, had no hesitation or tremble whatsoever. He wanted his quartermaster in his bed. Malaria wasn’t contagious between people so Q had nothing to fear, but Alec was sweaty, hadn’t had a shower for two days, looked like hell and smelled like it. Q had no intention to come to bed with him.

And yet, Q slowly moved onto the bed, because right there and then, Alec looked like a kicked puppy, and it would almost be comical considering that the agent was usually a big, muscular, cold-blooded killer. And he was making puppy eyes at Q and Q couldn’t resist him when he was being so bloody insistent.

_Where the hell was James when he needed him?_

He ended up trapped against Alec’s sweaty body, his strong arms around him as if Q was a teddy to a five year old child. ”006, I need to breathe.” He hissed a bit, wriggling to catch his breath but Alec didn’t move one bit and just closed his eyes.

Q sighed and just settled against the agent’s chest, breathing the heavy air surrounding him through his mouth because as attractive as Alec was most of the time, now he really smelled of sickness, sweat and medicines. ”You might want to have a shower, Alec.” He suggested, trying to sound as least offensive as possible, though that wasn't the kind of thing that might offend someone like Alec Trevelyan.

”There are too many steps between me and the shower, Q. And look, I have malaria.” He said and raised a shaking hand as evidence. That excuse had worked for the last couple of days after all and Alec had been trained all his life to keep the things that worked and take advantage of them. And as expected, Q looked up sympathetically at him, an apologetic smile on his lips and decided to just put up with the smell if that meant Alec would get better by staying in bed.

James came into the flat with a bag of takeaway food from that Chinese place down the street that owed him free food for a lifetime after he had saved a family member from human trafficking between some village in rural China and the States. James hadn’t dared tell them that he hadn’t done it on purpose — what happened between China and the USA wasn’t MI6’s problem most of the time — and that it was just a collateral result of him stopping the Chinese mafia from stealing British confidential information. But if it all resulted in him having free takeaway whenever he was in London, who was he to complain?

He took off his shoes and put on some slippers because Q was absolutely bonkers about that particular detail in their home and then made his way to the kitchen as quietly as possible. He didn’t want Alec to know he was back.

As much as he appreciated Alec and sympathized with him catching malaria, he soon got tired of his best friend’s whims and orders. And James could never really protest because it would be inconsiderate of him to say no to a man who couldn’t even get up from bed. It had been two days now since Alec had insisted on leaving Medical and be treated at home, and James was on the edge of paying Medical from his own pocket to take Alec back. He had been trained to be an assassin, not a nurse.

He sneaked into the kitchen, left spotless as usual by Q, and silently took out a beer from the fridge. So far, he was safe. Maybe if he could sneak into the guest loo, the furthest room from the master bedroom, so he could eat in peace and use his phone to watch some sort of movie or crappy telly? None of them ever used that bathroom after all; Alec wouldn’t think of finding him there.

James grabbed the takeaway and the beer and slid his feet across the kitchen to avoid making proper steps that could be heard.

_Slowly, James, steady, you can do this. Only a few meters left and you’ll be at peace for the rest of the evening._

A phone rang.

_His_ phone rang. Loud.

James stilled completely, pondering if whether or not it was worth it to just run away now and never look back, or if he should jump from the window and hope for the best.

”James!” came the loud, hoarse voice from the master bedroom. He was so screwed.

He mumbled enough curses under his breath to make a sailor blush, and put the takeaway on the counter of the kitchen to fish out his phone from his pocket. Tanner. Of course. Who the bloody hell else could it be?

”007.” He answered dryly, which didn’t seem to phase Tanner at all.

”Evening, Bond. We’re calling to know about 006’s state. Is he alright?” Tanner’s voice came as professional but slightly tinted with personal worry.

”If by alright you mean even more insufferable than usual, then yes, he’s more than alright.” Bond groaned as he made his way to the master bedroom after Alec barked his name a second time. ”Q will keep you updated. I have to go now.” He said and cut the call as he reached the door and came in, his beer still in his hand and a smile as polite as he could manage on his face.

Alec wasn’t an idiot, however, and he was going to make this one particular bastard pay.

”I need my feet massaged, I can’t feel them anymore.” Alec whined dramatically.

James narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him. ”Numb feet aren't a symptom of malaria. I looked it up.”

”It’s a symptom of I haven’t moved from this bloody bed since this morning. And which of us has malaria, huh? I know what my bloody symptoms are.” Alec glared at his best friend and occasional lover with the force of two puppies and seven feral cats. James didn’t want to give in to his bullshit however but then Q looked up from where he was trying not to suffocate.

”Just help him, 007.” He said in a tired voice. Q was the most sympathetic of the two of them, and if James would never take Alec’s bullshit, he usually obeyed to Q when it came to personal matters. He loved him too much not to.

With a deep sigh that he purposefully huffed loud enough to make sure that Alec understood how much he didn’t like this at all, he approached the bed, pushed the blankets away and winced at Alec’s sweaty feet. They were the feet of a man who had run and walked too much and had already had broken toes and several cuts and scratches through his life. Bond’s were the same.

James, however, was very good with his fingers but he also was excellent at human anatomy and knew exactly where to press to make it hurt. Which he did.

Alec jerked his foot away and tried to kick James with the other, startling Q in the process. ”Holy hell, Bond!” Now Alec’s glare wasn’t puppies and kittens anymore but suns and supernovas. But he guessed they were even now.

”You useless, bastard. Go do whatever it was you intended to do in hiding. I’ll just cuddle with Q and make sure he prefers me to you.” Alec snapped and then pulled Q back against him in a crushing hug — James heard Q gasp for air — and buried his nose in the quartermaster’s mop of black hair.

”I was just trying to help.” James smirked smugly and left the room with his beer.

As he made his way back to the kitchen to retrieve his takeaway, he thought about Alec again and wondered why he was doing this. Of course, Alec had always had a side of general mischief in him, but he wasn't the kind to want to be coddled. For a start, James usually was more cuddly than Alec was. And neither of them liked to be incapacitated in a bed.

He settled on a stool against the kitchen counter now that he had no valid reason to hide anymore and started eating his takeaway after taking a first sip of his beer.

God, it was good.

Silence had settled in the flat however and soon enough, he could hear the sound of Alec snoring. His sympathies went to Q immediately who didn’t like snoring much but had gotten used to it.

James had seen Alec when he came back home, nine days ago. He hadn't been in a good shape, already, but that was expected after a month of mission in the middle of Africa. The mission had been particularly successful however. And by that he meant that there was only minimal causality and Alec came back with all his limbs and organs, and mostly, with a sane mind. However, he had spent a good deal of time at the pub with James pestering about how he hadn't been able to sleep because of the mosquitoes.

And then, the symptoms showed up and 006 was diagnosed with malaria. Count on him not to take the necessary precautions before, during and after the trip.

James had seen the first stages of the disease however. It wasn’t exactly pretty but it was nothing any normal human being couldn’t handle if they were treated in a safe environment. And they were Double-Os. They had known worse. That was why Medical had let them pursue the treatment here instead, after Alec had insisted and they couldn't manage to keep him in his bed any longer.

But none of that explained why Alec acted like a spoiled child.

James drank more beer and then it hit him.

Alec acted like a _spoiled child_.

They were _orphans_.

James moved from the stool to the living-room quickly and spotted one of Q’s numerous tablets. He knew Q’s password, thankfully and entered it as he sat on the overstuffed couch that faced a giant plasma TV. James actually didn’t have the security clearance to see into another Double-O file — which was understandable since MI6 wanted their agents to know less of one another just in case of interrogation under the wrong hands — but Q had and it took him only a minute to pull out Alec’s medical file.

As he had suspected, Alec had never been sick.

Oh, he had been dead, he had had bullets through various parts of his body, he had been poisoned and one of his kidneys even went missing once, but he had never been sick from a common disease. Not even a cold. Not since he had been a toddler. It was Alec’s first sickness in ages, and the last time he had been sick, he had had parents to coddle him, to treat like the toddler he was.

James too often missed his parents, but he had always been good at keeping those feelings buried under layers of detachment and denial, and enough alcohol to make a pool out of it. But under all that carefully constructed facade he and Alec had managed to build through the years, there was still a sort of immeasurable pain and turmoil they couldn’t quite get rid of. And sometimes, it just surfaced. For James it had been when the previous M had died. For Alec, it was when sickness brought him back to the last time he had been unconditionally loved and cared for.

James sighed and left Q’s tablet on the coffee table, disconnecting from the MI6 servers, and then made his way to the kitchen. He didn’t want to eat the takeaway anymore and just grabbed it and shoved it into the bin under the sink.

He made his way to the master bedroom.

Q wasn’t asleep but he was laying there, against Alec, peaceful and quiet. Alec was still snoring. The genius looked up when he heard James and smiled a bit and James smiled back though he lacked the same peace of mind Q always had.

Bond silently started picking up each of the balls of tissues around the bedroom and threw them in a proper bin, much to Q’s surprise even though the man didn't say anything, mostly because he knew that any noise whatsoever would wake Alec up. When he was finished, James also picked up the worn teeshirts and pants, he re-sterilized the entire bedroom and then he went back to the kitchen.

Q just watched his second lover, puzzled but pleased by James’ initiative. He had noticed that something had changed on James’ face but he couldn't quite figure out what, and he was dying to know but at the same time, he knew that he couldn’t move or he would wake Alec. He would ask later what prompted the sudden helpfulness in chores that James usually hated.

Q soon could hear a bit of noise from the kitchen, but too low to really distinguish what was going on, but not low enough to keep Alec sleeping.

At least, he stopped snoring, Q thought as he squirmed away a bit to look at Alec who seemed confused for a second before his gaze returned to the focused one Q was used to.

Alec groaned at the noise from the kitchen however. ”James, what the fuck are you doing? People are trying to get better here!” He yelled, turning his head toward the general direction of the kitchen, which also meant that he got a good look at the rest of the room and now, he could smell the distinctive odor of antiseptic and sterilizer. The tissues were gone, and so were the sweaty clothes. And Q was still in his arms. There was something strange and confusing about it all.

James came back into the room however, with a bucket of water, and a mug of what looked like hot chocolate. Alec hadn’t even know they had hot chocolate in this flat. It certainly wasn’t his, and certainly wasn’t James. And Q looked so young he could be from kindergarten. Must be Q’s then.

The blue-eyed agent brought a chair close to the bed and then shoved the mug in Alec’s hands. ”Drink.” He just said and Alec glared at him before looking suspiciously at the content of the mug and then sniffing a bit. ”It’s not drugged or poisoned.” James rolled his eyes and Alec sat up correctly in the bed, reluctantly letting go of Q, and took a tentative sip.

It might not be drugged or poisoned but it had vodka in it. Not a lot but just enough so that Alec wouldn’t wine about drinking hot chocolate like a child.

However, he didn't understand completely why James had done all of that. He had expected Q to be coddling, but he hadn’t expected James to be whatever this was. Yes, they were best friends, and they helped each other, but not like this. This was a first. James usually contented himself with hunting down whoever had hurt Alec and kill them, but in this case, he couldn’t hunt down a mosquito or something, now could he?

James took out a washcloth from the bucket then, wet and cold and wrung it before reaching and putting it on Alec’s forehead and gently started to wash his face.

James was _washing_ him.

He couldn’t go to the shower so James bloody Bond was washing him, on the bed.

Alec was torn between being completely humiliated and embarrassed and being completely touched and moved.

But then Q gently snuggled against him, wrapping his arms around his head to pull him into an embrace, and it reminded Alec of his mother. He didn’t say a word then. These people weren’t sexy nurses in front of whom looking weak and miserable would be humiliating and embarrassing. They were people he trusted with his life. They were Q and James. Or no.

They were Evan and James.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and sorry for wasting your time :)


End file.
